I wake up and do the whole morning ritual of brushing my teeth, taking a shower and getting dressed. While brushing my teeth my dad tells me that in three days I'm going to get very sick and die two days after that. Laughing I tell him I'm not gullible. He tells me that I forgot to use filtered water to brush my teeth and now I'm going to get Typhoid. #@$&!. My dad tut-tuts my language, says it's been nice knowing each other and prances down to breakfast.
Panicking I look around and realize that my dad took our filtered water. Swearing, I keep on searching, finally I find the solution to my problem...Sanitizer. I open my mouth wide, squeeze my eyes together, tense my throat so I don't swallow any sanitizer and...squirt. It burnssss. I jump around the room howling like an elephant giving birth. I dot care if I die of typhoid any more so I open the water tap to the max and rinse my mouth for ten minuets.
I shuffle into the dining room head bowed in embarrassment. My dads face sports a surprised expression...he starts laughing. Sputtering he tells me that we actually got a vaccine for typhoid, shocked, I sit down at the table, my ego is completely destroyed.
After a long counseling session with my dad I decide to go to school. At the school I drink lots of coffee to drown my sorrows as my teacher looks at me like I'm the leader of the of the KKK. I learned nothing today.
After my very anti-educational class of Spanish, today, my dad and I run of to quickly consume, in a very timely fashion, crepes.
My dad looks at his watch, let's out a yelp, says that we are late for the bus, straps our luggage to his back and we skitter off.
By our bus we meet the French couple we are traveling with, my dad grunts a salute to them, he can't speak because of the luggage on his back. I tell me dad to stop lolygaging, snap my fingers towards the trunk of our bus and tell him to "deposit" our bags.
We get on our bus and our insane looking bus driver apologizes that the air-conditioning is broken and tells us we are in for a "hell bent ride". He sure was right.
Six hours later an innocent bystander would have seen four very disoriented, pasty tourists with articles of clothing being worn on the wrong body parts, leap out of a bus before it even stopped. The tourists then continued to forcefully take ice from a bartender, grind it down into their gizzards by the pound and rub the ice over the face while sighing phrases of content in random languages.
Wanting to escape prying looks of locals we (the tourists) run of to our hotel in the jungle(Btw we are in the Caribbean, Rio Dulce). We are guided by a very concerned hotel secretary to our rooms. By the time we arrive at our swaying cabin on the lake the secretary has come to the conclusion that we have asthma, I guess she doesn't like people with asthma because she told us to beware of the gigantic cannibalistic cockroaches and took the fan in our room because she said-"it's getting stuffy in my office with only two fans"....evil.
I walk into my room and see three huge cockroaches prowling around my bed, their whiskers twitching, every other minuet they lift their arses in unison and poop perfectly round balls. Shuddering I bribe my dad to let me sleep in his bed. I climb into the bed, zip tie the mosquito net to the bed using thirty zip ties....only then do I realize I need to go to the washroom. Laughing my dad un-zip ties me and I tiptoe to the washroom, take a piss and re-zip tie my bed.
I dreamt that my ear was being munched off by cockroaches, there was an angel flying above me but it was to busy dancing a waltz with God to help me.
Waking up I practically jump of my bed singing the "Good Morning" song.....guess coffee really isn't a good idea before bed. I bounce around the room, every once in a while I jump over to my dad, tell him to wake up and give him a nuggie. Irritated my dad twitches like a horse trying to get rid of fleas. Laughing I prance down to breakfast.
My dad shows up five minutes later outraged, he forbids me to ever drink coffee again. Miguel mockingly tut-tuts me. Sighing I give over my already half empty cup of coffe and I'm given in return a glass of green mango juice. When nobodies looking I quickly pour it into a plant pot and take up the face of an innocent child who had his teddy bear taken away....still I don't get coffee.
My dad smiles like a born again Christian while I sulk behind him to school.
At the school I silently sneak my book out of my dads backpack and sit behind a tree reading it like a hermit. Ten minuets later I'm at the climax of the book and don't notice my teacher standing beside me boring her eyes into my skull. At the end of the chapter I sigh a breath relief (the main character survived assassination) and look around, I let out a little high pitched shriek which is quickly silenced by my teachers evil smirk.
Snarling she drags me over to our table and tells me if I behave and do well in class she'll give me coffee. Today was the best day of Spanish I have had had- I got all the verb tenses and conjugation correct and I was able to hold a very educational conversation about how caterpillars reproduce, with my teacher...sighing my teacher told me I'm crazy...she meant I'm a crazy genius...?
After class my dad took one look and me and says that coffee is only a small part of my hyper problem, "air is like red bull to you, I'm gonna have to take it away" my dad says with an evil grin suddenly jumping on his face.
To win back my air I bet my dad that my route of walking to our house is shorter than his. An hour later our legs are falling of and we still haven't found an answer, so after a lot of arguing, in four different languages, we agree to disagree.
We crawl into our families dining room only to find our food was given to the dogs because we were late. It's already seven in the evening so I feverishly settle down in my bed while my dad pecks at his keyboard like an angry chicken.
Today I wake up very refreshed after a great nights sleep and no dreams. My dads already down at the breakfast bar so I get up, use my fingers for a hair brush and saunter down to breakfast.
At the bar my dad tells me that something called "Continental Breakfast" is free. After placing my order for a "Continental" I wait with great expectation painted across my face. When it arrives a witness would have seen my face sag and turn into a mutation from disappointment. I dangerously eye my bowl of soggy bread and orange colored water, which should have passed for orange juice. Very disappointed I order a side of bacon for ten quetzals(Guatemalan currency). Promptly two shriveled up pieces of microwave bacon are ushered onto my plate by a grinning server. The obese server continues to retire to his own table with a plate piled high with sausage, bacon and eggs. He moans out loud as fat dribbles down his chin.
Groaning I surrender to the ugly bowl of wet bread and swallow it whole to avoid the taste. Laughing the waiter graciously accepts our money, keeping the change for himself.
After breakfast we went down to the docks to take a lantcha (very fast boat) around the lake. Every couple of minuets small four year old kids would run up to us with huge eyes and puckered lips asking us in the most angelic voice possible if we wanted to buy anything. Eventually one of the students (Kathleen) gave in to the temptation and bought a bracelet, she was instantly swarmed by an army of children all shoving cheap bracelets in her face, their expressions becoming more angel like by the second. She runs out of the crowd arms flailing around her body and screaming, the children followed her like a river, gibbering in cute Spanish.
An hour later we arrived at the docks and found Kathleen sleeping on the grass, hair disheveled, a very scary expression on her face. We woke her up, she sat up like she was a rake that had been stepped on and asked us where her dog was. Confused we murmured that we didn't know. After getting to know her again we finally hired a lantcha.
I was the only person smart enough to sit at the very front of the boat. At first it was very fun. It was very fun until we hit a wave, the nose of the boat lifted into the air a whole meter and I went with it, the problem is that the nose went back down but I didn't. I flew all the way to the back of the boat and landed on my arse to a chorus of gleeful laughter at my expense. Stunned I carefully stand up and move to a safer seat, I tie myself to the boat.
After that one unfortunate incident I had lots of fun. After traveling in the boat for half an hour I step of the boat into Santiago, bowlegged like a real sailor. We order a tuk-tuk (a very fast three wheeled car with no suspension), unfortunately the roads are cobble stone which means I spent the whole time rattling my bones to powder, I'm quite positive I got a concussion from hitting my head on the top of the car so much(I can't do math anymore).
I get out of the tuk-tuk disoriented and I'm led to our destination by the cackling driver. We arrive to our destination-it would have been inconspicuous if it wasn't for the fact that about a hundred people were crowding around a random clay sculpture with a cigarette, praying. Our tour guide told us that it was some famous guy named Santa Cruz and that he granted wishes. My dad thought that the guy was Santa Claus, got down on his knees and asked in a very solemn voice for a case of beer for Christmas. Concerned our guide, shaking his head, led my dad away like he was a granny.
After our visit with "Santa Claus" we walked down to the market, saying no thanks to every offer for a tuk-tuk. At the market I set my eyes on a awesome sculpture of a humming bird sticking it's snout in a flower. After thirty minuets of ferocious bargaining I manage to shave ten quetzals of the price. I walk over to my dad and triumphantly explain my financial advancements. Chucking my dad tells me that six quetzals is one dollar, he continues to rip up a five quetzal bill just to show me how priceless the money is. I gape at him, my mouth becomes a black hole sucking up every thing within a meter. Still laughing my dad walks away, angry I drop to the ground, pickup the pieces of the bill and scuttle of to find tape.
Next we go to the tiny village of San Huan, walking of the boat we are swarmed by an army of children trying to sell us stuff and tuk-tuk drivers that try to convince us there tuk-tuk's have suspension. After rejecting what seems like forty people the villagers decided to put a taboo on us, most of us also managed to acquire a twitch from shaking our heads in denial for so long. We visit three weaving museums before we find one that still doesent know about the taboo. We are shown by an old, short granny how to make the string and how to dye it, she speaks in a unnatural monotone voice the whole time. Then she started showing us how to weave, her hands blurred unnaturally fast and a pattern started to emerge, first very simple but then more and more complicated. I gaped like a monkey trying to fit a banana tree in it's mouth, magically words start to appear-"Stop staring at my like I'm a circus act you pillow muncher" her weaving read. Hoping it's a trick of light I walk away furiously rubbing my eyes until they turn red.
After my dad bought some blankets from the museum we disguised our selves, so we aren't recognized by the locals, and then we went to Santa Cruz, with me tied to the boat.
Getting of the boat god must have heard our prayers because nobody was waiting to sell us stuff. Relaxed we walked through the town to our hotel, random chickens clucking at our feet.
We arrived at our hotel at eight in the evening, we had dinner and most people went to bed, not me... I stayed up till four reading my book and feel asleep trying not to think of the drowsy day ahead of me.
I wake up today at 5 am, red eyed with blurry vision. I stumble towards the washroom blind. Instead of finding the bathroom door I find empty space, that's when I remember that there is no door to the bathroom, but I realized to late as my head thumped onto the bathroom floor.
I stand up carefully like a cow on ice, my thoughts all oozy. Finally I find the sink and wash my face of all impurities. Now feeling like an angel I bark at my dad telling him that he has to get up or else.....or else we will be late for the bus.
I drift down to breakfast with my dad, but since it's five in the morning no one besides my dad and I are awake so we have to resort to grabbing some stale cookies from the pantry.
Choking cookies down my throat I hop along the cobbled road still trying to tug on one of my shoes. My dad suddenly lets out a piercing shriek. Turns out he forgot our tickets. Sighing I impatiently wait as my dad charges of to get our tickets. My eyes dart from side to side as I scan for dangers lurking in the dark, I almost kill an innocent Guatemalan with my roar of defiance as he rounds the corner. Shrinking below me he shuffles away sniffling and moaning to himself.
Feeling much safer I lift my chin up high and wait for my dad. When my dad finally runs up to me huffing and puffing I hear police sirens in the distance, hoping they are not coming for me I turn up my collar, hunch over and discreetly walk in the shadows towards the school, I tell my dad to do likewise.
Finally at the school we quietly tiptoe up behind some fellow students and whispere in there ears to not scare them-"Hola". Unfortunately this didn't work because they jumped half way to mars from fright, screaming the whole way.
After settling down we squished into the mini van like sardines, theres so much pressure being applied to our bodies that our eyes are boggling out our heads. My dad was smart enough to buy sleeping pills before our trip, I gladly accepted the pills and am out cold, tongue lolling out the side of my mouth before the key is in the ignition.
I dive into the cool green water in lake Atitlan , the water streaming by my face. Suddenly I'm trapped in an old fishing line, I struggle to get out, finally free I look around, shocked I let out a silent scream as huge jaws and mocking eyes close in on me.
I wake up panting like a lap dog, familiar people stare at me with concerned faces, all of them are plugging their ears. My hand quickly darts up to my face to wipe off the drool.cOne man mumbles under his breath that I have FUBARed his hearing. Upon inquiring the meaning of the word an awkward silence commences.
To my relief a young boy breaks the silence with a forced laugh, relived everyone laughs along.
We pile out of our bus and head of to our hotels. At the hotel I fall onto my bed and surrender to my unmerciful dreams.
I wake up and stare lovingly at the coffee seeds, my father ruins the moment by muttering "Oi, Oi, Oi" in his sleep. Sighing I get up, tell my dad to do likewise and go to breakfast.
Nothing interesting happened for most the day.
In the evening the school has a dinner for all the students. I grudgingly followed a dad, a fake smile plastered on my face.
At the dinner we were told we would be having fresh beef, mashed potatoes and salad. Then the chef went back inside. Five minutes later I heard a desperate "moooooo" in the back, this stopped abruptly with a thudding noise. Trying to stop my self from shuddering I accept my meal from the chef. I am seriously contemplating becoming a vegetarian.
After dinner I sat around with a guy from Australia and a kid from the USA around hot tea and biscuits, exchanging epic ski stories and crazy incidents like WW1 veterans on Victory Day.
After our invigorating story time, we shuffled of to our apartments, hunched over, hands clutched to our spines, complaining about our backs.
I open my eyes after an awfully short night,a dream still fresh in my spanish filled noggin-my teacher waving around the "Barons" book of Spanish verbs in front of my face and in a mocking voice tells me I have 1 day to learn the conjugations of all 501 verbs or else she'l feed me to her pet chihuahua as a midnight snack.
Rather scared I ask my dad to check under my bed for a carnivorous chihuahua. Clearly confused he obliges...nothing. I quickly jump of my bed and charge out of my room, still in my underwear, to get a machete that Miguel keeps in the kitchen before the chihuahua can leap out of a different hiding spot.
Miguel looks at me with blood shot eyes and mutters under his nose-"Niño raro..". Taking this as a complement for my agility I nod and quickly and thank him, he raises his eyebrows and cocks his head to the side drilling into my eyes with a calculating look.
Back in my room I slowly spin around, poised to strike at the slightest movement. It takes my dad ten minuets to convince me there's no miniature killer dog on the loose.
Greatly relieved I jog a victory lap around the house, eat breakfast and run off to the school feeling on-top of the world.
At the school I sit down at a table with my teacher, a smile stretched across my face like a railway and still growing. The smile quickly melts and drips off my face as she slams the "Barons" book of verbs on the table, and tells me today all I'm doing is learning irregular verbs. My head quickly spins on it's axis as I scan for a small, snarling four legged creature. My teacher snaps at me in Spanish, telling me to get to work.
Half an hour later I'm very bored and greatly exhausted. I resort to humming "Over the Rainbow" in my head while moving my head from side to side in the book to keep up the image of a good, hardworking student.
At the end of class my teacher decides to test me. Thoroughly screwed over I pretend to be sick and run of to the washroom making fake gagging noises. I make sure to emerge out of the washroom only when the class is over.
After lunch my dad and I meet back at the school with a group of students to go to a coffee farm. We manage to squeeze twenty people in one 9 place van, I have two people squashing me to the seat, they are completely and totally ignoring my squeaks and wriggles of protest as they jabber on in furious German and consume gummy bears by the handful.
Finally at the coffee farm we pile out of the van. I am now positively a pancake. I might as well have been put through a toffee stretcher.
We continue down a beaten gravel road. My dad and I have a very heated and hysterical debate as to wether the tree with the green or red berries is the coffee tree. We are given a lecture by the tour guide to stop acting like third grade headless chickens in a boiling pot of water....oh and turns out it was the same tree, just one was ripe the other wasn't.
After a severe disappointment we started our tour of the farm, half way through our guide explaining the origin of the coffee tree it started raining. At first lightly but gradually it became harder and harder, soon enough the ground was shaking and people were getting squashed by humungous rain drops while praying to the Mayan Gods. Who was left with the living, crowded into a storm shelter. Huddled in the shelter an evil grin spreads across my dads face, he snatches my umbrella from me and cackling pushes me into the rain snapping photos of me as I cower under my hands from the wrath of the Gods.
Ten minuets later I'm standing in the gift shop soaked through to my super holy soul hanging on for dear life to a cup of very delicious steaming coffee, reading how in the 14th century they only had beer and bread and that coffee saved Europe from certain brain damage. For lunch they had soup made from beer and bread. Moaning my dad smacks his slobbery lips together and stumbles around the room already drunk, wanting to save my dad I distract him by hatching a plan to acquire coffee tree seeds to plant at home.
I walk up to the guard and start speaking to him in very fast Russian hoping to distract him as my dad sneaks some seeds into his pockets. After thirty seconds the guard tells me to go piss on someone else's parade in perfect Russian and turns away from me. That's when he notices my dad. Enraged he raises his AK-47, floors the trigger and let's of a river of Russian swearing to the noise of the AK.
To avoid the bullets I roll and jump all over the place like a true ninja. I only succeed in falling out the third story window and landing in a pile of fermented cow dung. Lifting my my face I see my dad charging of into the distance, coffee seeds raised in triumph screaming-"I escaped Aushwitz. Oi! Oi! Oi!" over and over again. Still very cold I do jumping jacks to warm up and go home.
Upon arriving back to our room I discover my dad sitting on the ceiling and examining the coffee seeds through a magnifying glass quietly chuckling to him self. I rush of to the doctor to get checked out. There I pass out from shock.
I wake up sprawled on the floor, my face cold from the ceramic tile. Confused, memories from last night rush back to me. My dad tells me to get dressed and brush my "ugly, rotten, plum colored teeth." Disoriented I throw on a shirt, shorts, mismatching socks and quickly follow my dad to breakfast with my host family.
I'm greeted by quietly muttered "Hola's" and weird looks. Sitting at the table weird looks turn to snickering, my dad can't hold a straight face and bursts into hysterics. Disgusted I stand up and leave to my room to inspect myself in the mirror. Standing in front of the mirror I observe what looks like a birds nest gone wrong where my hair should be. Gasping I stumble to find a hair comb, five minuets later I only succeed in getting the brush stuck in my hair and dislodging half of it's teeth. Bracing my self I grab a firm hold on the brush and pull, I pull my self halfway across the room before a quarter of my hair with the brush rocket out of my hand and out the window.
Clutching my head I stumble into the dinning room. Laughing Miguel tells me I'm very weird.
After finishing our breakfast, of French toast and fresh fruit, my dad and I set of to our Spanish school- Don Pedro. At the school I am introduced to my teacher-Maria. After a set of grueling and very long tests, to asses my Spanish, she informs me, in immaculate English, that I have a better chance of becoming pregnant via wind pollination then becoming fluent at Spanish.
Clearly very distraught she settles down to teach me the very basics, stuff I learnt when I was six. "Oh-laa" she says, talking to me like I'm a newborn. I repeat. A grave expression crosses her face, "You have an accent" she sighs, announcing a death sentence. I spend the next half an hour getting "Hola" perfect.
Four hours later, when the bell for the end of classes rings, I fly out of my chair, my arse on fire. Running around the schools courtyard I am dragged into helping make tortillas by some old, short, gibbering Guatemalan grannies.
Surprisingly I have quite a but of fun, slapping tortillas from hand to hand to create awfully crooked masterpieces.
Having enough Spanish lessons/traditions for a day my dad and I retire to our rooms, barely shuffling along. Sloths would call us slow. My dad falls on his bed muttering in a mix of Spanish, English, Russian and Egyptian.
After a four hour flight we arrived in Houston. Relieved we raced towards the nearest breakfast place. To my utter distress after placing our order my dad realizes that we have no American money. He charges off to find an ATM machine while I entertain the ever growing line up behind the me.
Half an hour later the line behind me stretches two times around the airport, finally to my relief my dad saunters into the food court, triumphantly grinning, with money in hand. After eating a breakfast of bacon, toast, eggs and bagels we waddle across the airport to our boarding gate- "E-2".
When we finally find our boarding gate we are met with promises of delays on the dusty departure board. Groaning I settle into the worn-out chair. After spending eternity in the same stinking chair the flight attendants finally decided to open the gate.
Sitting on the plane that will take my dad and me to Guatemala. I'm constantly fighting a battle with air pressure, yawning like there no tomorrow. The Guatemalan sitting beside me looks at me like I'm a Martian with three legs and hair sprouting out of my eye-balls. I bury my face in a book.
It felt like "Victory Day" all over again as my dad and I are greeted by our home stay family. After the long, bumpy and sketchy ride down the cobbled roads my bottom was greatly relieved to be up and about again.
Upon entering the house all your seances sharpen and awaken, you suddenly feel like a small ant with the shadow of a boot closing in on you. Gasping I devour the scene before me with my eyes. I'm standing in an immense courtyard with just about every specie of flora flowering before my eyes, parrots circle over head screeching welcoming phrases in just above every language.
Meeting the head of house-Miguel quickly brought me back to my senses, he asks me if I understand Spanish. Feeling very lucky I confidentially respond-"Sì señor!!", seconds later I regret my boldness as ten questions in Spanish are fired at me in rapid succession within a time frame of 5 seconds. Shocked i'm able to compose myself enough to mutter a couple sí's in a Russian accent. Thoroughly embarrassed I slip away into my room, the beauty surrounding me forgotten.
An hour later my dad and I leave from our rooms freshly dressed and fit to rule the world. We saunter down the street to a Spanish school. After signing up my dad walks out of the administrators office and proudly announces, with a scary glint in his eyes, that he has signed us up for Four hours a day of Spanish school for the next month...Shocked I do the math, I realize I will be spending more then 120 hours learning Spanish in the next month. Muscles suddenly aching we set off to find something to eat.
Ten minuets later we we casually stroll into a very posh restaurant wearing Ray-Bans and Rolex's. Grinning my dad hails the closest waiter, the waiter looks at us like we are mental patients and speed walks away. Infuriated my dad charges of to find the management. Several minutes later he hobbles back looking very pale, and announces to me in a grave voice that we are sitting in a McDonald's. Genuinely worried I rushed of to buy a thermometer, only on the way back did I notice the golden M painted discretely on a yellow background.
My brain tries to comprehend this turn of events- McDonald's has suddenly acquired a sense of style- the ceiling, 4 meters above my head, is painted with almost a perfect replica of the Sistine Chapel. I'm surrounded on all sides with sculptures of cherubs and angels. I once again question my sanity.
Staggering out of McDonald's rubbing our tummies my dad and I set of towards the flee market on the other side of town. Unfortunately before reaching the market god decide to drop his bladder on us. Blinded, staggering through the rain we get lost three times before we finally made it back to our host families house. Crawling into my own room like a living casualty I collapse to the floor, the last of my strength leaving me.
Sitting waiting for my plane in Sea-Tac airport, Seattle. I feel like my legs will fall of from exhaustion. After saying bye to my mom and sister in a flurry of warning about bandits and kidnappers, my dad and I escaped to the bus that would take us to the airport.
Four hours later we stumble of the bus un-oriented and sporting many injured muscles from daring stretching on the bus. My dad tells me in a harsh and secretive whisper to get into the building "pronto" before the FBI gets us.
Upon checking in we continue to the security check point. After waiting inline for what seemed like eternity I was ready to get on my knees and pour my heart out before god. Finally, to my mercy, we arrived at the check point. To my horror I realized we were to be subjected to the notorious full body scanner that reveals what should not be revealed to strangers.
Stifling a groan I walked to certain death. I stepped in between what seemed like two great walls of china. The sharp bark of the officer brought me back to my senses as I was ordered to lift my hands above my head. Reluctantly I obeyed. My dad could barley contain himself as he gleefully entertained himself at my expense. Just to rub it in my face he grinned like a maniac, ordered me to smile and told me Big Brother is watching.
Quickly producing a lop-sided grin I waited for the killer light rays, to my relief they never came, my brain raced through the electro-magnetic spectrum as imagined gamma rays- silent killers, penetrating my body, but after consulting with my inner voice I settled for the more likely explanation of a high end x-ray. All I had to endure was the snickering of the officer, I hope he was laughing at my feeble attempt to smile.
Half a minute later my dad stumbled through the check point sweaty and red eyed from laughing himself hoarse. Seeing my glaring facial expression he broke into a fresh fit of laughter, twitching like a cardiac arrest patient he stumbles into a nearby chair. A concerned officer runs over to my dad and asks what the problem is, my dad is unable to answer and the officer tries what seems to be half the living languages and a couple dead ones before I assure him that my dad is fine, thoroughly confused he walked away, silently shaking his head.
Still recovering from his happy seizure my dad suddenly realizes that he has lost his wallet. Now it's my turn to laugh, as I finger my dads wallet in my pocket and slowly feed clues to him as to where it might be. After half an hour my dad is caught dry on one of my clues, feeling "truly" sorry I decide to give his wallet back. Growling my dad snatches his wallet out of my hands and charges of to go buy fish 'n chips for us. After fifteen minutes of waiting my dad arrives with soggy fish 'n chips, watery clam chowder and half arsed fries. Seeing that this is probably the last meal I will have in 9 hours I force the food down my throat, wishing I had a plunger.
I now feel throughly purged of all bad experiences, they will now transfer to you- the reader. I hope you enjoy my displeasure, for now sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite.